


¿Cómo fue?

by quantumoddity



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: But for Good Reason, F/M, First Time, Fluff, In which Hector skives off a performance, Outdoor Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: Sometimes, things just feel right...The night that a young Hector and a young Imelda made the decision to put the wedding night before the actual wedding, after a fiesta in the plaza.A.N: The song is quite a famous love ballad by Beny More





	¿Cómo fue?

Of course, Imelda had seen Héctor play before. But she’d never seen him play like _this._

He stood alone in the centre of the plaza, nothing but himself and his carefully hand painted guitar and his voice, an expression of rapture and sincerity brushing his long, sharply angled face as his fingers ran in their own complicated dance across the strings. After the wild, bawdy and unconstrained fiesta songs that he and Ernesto had been playing so far that night, the simplicity of his solo was nearly heart stopping, holding the attention of every single person in the crowd as the cooling evening air carried the lyrics to them.

 _“_ _Cómo fue..._ __  
no sé decirte cómo fue,  
no sé explicarme qué pasó  
pero de ti me enamoré…”

Imelda didn’t quite know how Héctor had begged this quiet, understated solo performance right in the middle of their set from Ernesto, no doubt the price would be paid in a boisterous, brassy bolero of his own later. All either of them had been talking about for the last few weeks since they’d found out they’d be headlining the celebrations was what a big deal this night was for them. People would be travelling to Santa Cecilia from every surrounding town and village and it was their music they’d be seeing. She herself had noted the beginnings of nervousness in her amor’s voice as he’d repeated Ernesto’s insisting that every song they played had to be their biggest, their best, their brightest, they had to seize this opportunity of fresh ears (maybe some sets with the power to elevate their careers beyond the bars and wine sinks of their hometown) with both hands if they ever wanted to be serious about music.

But after just one verse of the haunting love song Héctor was drawing from his guitar, there wasn’t a single doubt in anyone’s mind that music was what he was destined to do.

Imelda watched from where she sat, perched delicately on the railings where Héctor had eagerly placed her before the fiesta began, insisting that it was where she’d get the absolute best view of their performance, where the acoustics would be best and she’d see everything. And it was true, she caught every single flicker of his wrists, every shift in his expression, the moment when tears began building in his eyes halfway through the song. Every single world of the beautiful ballad reached her, so clear she was struck with the idea that she could reach out and catch them, as if they were flower petals floating on the breeze that cut through the otherwise cloying evening. With something caught in her throat and prickling behind her eyelashes, Imelda listened to the love of her life sing.

 _“_ _Fue una luz que iluminó_ __  
todo mi ser.  
Tu risa como un manantial  
regó mi vida de inquietud.  
  
Fueron tus ojos o tu boca,  
fueron tus manos o tu voz,  
fue a lo mejor la impaciencia  
de tanto esperar  
tu llegada…”

Héctor seemed more hypnotised than anyone as he played, seemingly unaware of the tears that rolled down his sun bronzed face, the way he gripped his guitar like he’d fall to pieces if he let it go, the way every word wrenched from him like he was taking it from the very depths of his own heart. Who could look at him and doubt that he was meant to play for the world?

Imelda suddenly found herself having to grip the black iron railing with white knuckles to stop herself falling, having to pull in air like the smells and sounds of the fiesta were suddenly choking her. Fear had replaced the joy in her heart as quickly as flame takes match paper.

What if this was Héctor’s big break, as Ernesto had been insisting? What if this opened the world beyond Santa Cecelia for him, all of it eager to hear him play? He clearly loved music so much, it was in every movement he made up on the raised platform, every note he plucked from the strings, every word he sang.

How could his love for her compete with that?

Imelda tried to fix her eyes on her amor, resisting the urge to look away and flee the plaza entirely. She’d promised she’d be here to support her Héctor but now the doubt and fear was like a twist of pain in her stomach, the horrible thoughts taking hold of her with a grip so tight she wasn’t sure she’d be able to take it much longer.

Until, through her tears, she saw those deep, honey brown eyes she loved so much meet her own, even across the distance between them, shrinking the entirety of the plaza down to nothing at all, making the crowds around them disappear until there was no one but her and him.

 _“_ _Mas no sé,_ __  
no sé decirte cómo fue,  
no sé explicarme qué pasó  
pero de ti me enamoré…”

Héctor smiled as he sang the song’s final words directly to her, until they weren’t just words she was there to hear as part of a crowd, they were a gift with her name written on the tag. All that passion and emotion and sincerity, he gave it to her all wrapped up in the delicate, slightly mournful music. His words to her.

And how could she ever doubt them?

 

Imelda had managed to dry her eyes by the time Héctor finished his song, left his guitar to one side and found her in the crowd, stood at the edge of the throbbing, bouncing, golden pool of light and music and dancing that flooded the plaza.

“Mi amor…” he opened his arms for her, smiling a mile wide, eyes glittering in the echoes of the lanterns behind them.

“Héctor,” she beamed right back at him, flying into his arms gratefully, feeling confident doing so with the prying eyes of the town otherwise occupied by a different band, “You did so well!”

“Yeah?” he grinned, clutching her tightly to his chest the way he’d clutched his guitar up on stage, “And my solo?” He sounded hesitant, hopeful, her opinion on that last song clearly meaning a lot to him.

Imelda had been wracking her brains since the song ended, trying to think of the right words to describe the song he’d sung for her. Still none the wiser now he was here, she just pulled him down to close the height difference between them and kissed him full on the lips for a long, wonderful moment.

“Wow…” Héctor breathed, smiling crookedly once the need for air had pulled them apart, “That good?”

“That good,” Imelda giggled, nodding emphatically.

Together, without needing to say a word, they walked hand in hand into the gathering night, both of them wanting to leave the noise and light and colour behind them for a moment and be alone. They went just a short way, down to the river’s edge. This always seemed to be where they drifted, as if some instinct made their feet turn this way. It was where they’d played as _ni_ _ñ_ _os_ after school, abandoning socks and shoes and wading into the cool waters to shake off the heavy dust of a day of rather stifling lessons. It was where they’d spent their adolescent summers with their friends, trying to knock each other off of shoulders and into the water, swinging on the old tractor tyre Héctor and Ernesto lashed to the old, bent backed tree that guarded the river bank. And then, when life had pulled them away from such games, it was where the two shy lovebirds met alone, in the few spare hours Héctor’s myriad odd jobs and Imelda’s mother’s long list of chores gave them, where they’d talk and sit together and kiss, out of sight of eyes who’d be horrified to see two unmarried young people unsupervised.

The river seemed to have different moods, depending on the day. Tonight, it seemed half asleep, barely crawling along, turned the deep, inviting pink of guava juice by the sunset, which seemed to have come out in full colourful force in honour of the fiesta, illuminating their hiding place so beautifully. Imelda felt instantly more relaxed in their little clearing, just as she always did, completing the transformation by kicking her shoes off with a relieved sigh, letting her hair fall loose down her back and flopping gracelessly down into the grass. Héctor chuckled, preferring to enjoy the beautiful sight she offered him like that, before slipping off his mariachi jacket, the one she’d mended and put new buttons on for him in honour of the performance, and going down to the water, taking a handful of the sweet, cool water and splashing his face, allowing him to relax a little. There was still a whole other set to go of course, to close out the fiesta but he’d be damned if he’d let the worry of that poison his time with his amor.

Imelda watched him as he unwound his tense muscles, as he combed his dripping hand through his long black hair, leaving it sticking up in a mess of cowlicks and shining with water droplets that caught the sunset like a hundred little flames. He smiled at her when he caught her looking, his playful, dazzling smile, the one that was half an invitation.

In that moment, Imelda made up her mind. She was done doubting Héctor. She was done doubting, full stop.

She was going to trust him.

“Come here, mi amor?” she murmured, smiling softly, crooking her finger for him to sit beside her.

He went gladly, sliding an arm around her shoulders, left bare by her favourite violet dress. The sun was making freckles break out across them and Héctor took the opportunity to press a delicate kiss to each one, at least until Imelda was squirming and giggling.

She stopped him by taking hold of his face, kissing his lips instead, so hard her red lipstick smeared his own mouth when she pulled away.

Such an endearing image it made, such a possessive thrill it gave her that what she’d meant to delicately hint at just tumbled out of her mouth in her typical blunt way.

“Héctor, I want you to make love to me.”

She winced as his eyes doubled in size like a startled cat’s and his jaw swung open like it was on a hinge. That wasn’t how she’d wanted that to go, not exactly.

“You…’Melda, I…” he spluttered, all the suaveness and confidence he’d displayed on stage suddenly incredibly hard to believe, “Are you serious?”

“If you want to,” she said quickly, biting her lip anxiously, “But, yes, I want to.”

“Oh…” Héctor scrambled to recover some of his composure, now he was sure he’d heard her correctly and this wasn’t just his fantasies bleeding into reality somehow, “But...I mean…we’re not…”

“I know,” Imelda murmured, “But…I don’t feel like I need to wait for that? Not with you, Héctor.”

He considered that, realising the depth of trust in him that implied, and him just a flying-by-the-seat-of-his-pants, living-above-a-dive-bar, scoundrel _musico,_ really no fit partner for a beautiful, respectable girl like Imelda.

“And of course, we will be married,” he nodded emphatically, “Soon, very soon, Imelda, I just need to save a little more, but I promise…”

“I know,” Imelda smiled, blushing with pleasure at how certain he was in their future, putting her hand over his and sliding her fingers through his calloused ones, “So, why should we have to wait?”

“Yeah…” Héctor smiled, eagerly seizing on her train of thought. Why not, indeed? After how well the performance had gone, after she’d so clearly loved the song he’d indented specifically for her, with the few shots of tequila he and Ernesto had done before going on stage to help with nerves, with the warm sun and sweet scents in the air, with everything feeling so perfect…why couldn’t something so amazing as having his beautiful diosa happen too?

Imelda only needed the simple okay. She leaned back in and kissed him, though this time it tasted so different. There was promise in it, there was a little more fire, a delicious unfamiliarity, a new path to follow. It was a gateway, a door, to something entirely new to them both, something they’d both ached for and was now within dizzying reach. And Héctor answered in kind.

Delicately, he moved her back against the grass, the fresh, green scent of it as well as the richer, amber tones of the cempasúchil that bloomed at the riverbank was almost intoxicating around them, beckoning them forward. Imelda moaned his name against his lips as they snatched a breath, making a shiver run through his long limps, spurring him to take her further, arms wrapping around her and hands knotting in her long, raven black hair. Other parts of him responded too, parts he didn’t have as much control over but were certainly exerting their control over him.

Imelda giggled as she felt something hard press at her leg and, in a moment of daring, reached down between them and lay her palm against it, shocked and delighted at how it made Héctor jerk like he’d been electrocuted.

“Diosa…” he groaned throatily, sounding almost musical, like this was a new song he was singing for her.

“Take them off,” she whispered, grinning, more than a little of a command in her voice that Héctor immediately knew he liked a _lot._

He did as she asked, pulling away his uniform, the mariachi clothes he never truly felt ready to perform unless he was wearing. But this wasn’t a performance, this was real. There was only him and his amor. His Imelda. So, there was no hesitation or shyness as he stripped himself down to nothing, not even when he pulled away his trousers and his erection sprang free in a way he absolutely could not describe as sexy at all.

But Imelda didn’t seem to have any complaints. Her eyes grew wide as each piece of clothing was abandoned on the grass, the blush spreading from her face and down her collarbone right to the tops of her breasts.

He was beautiful. There really was no other word for it. He was purely and simply beautiful.

She very nearly ripped her own dress off her body but Héctor took care of that too before she could do something so reckless, reaching forward and pulling both that and her shift over her head in one fluid motion, the rest coming away easily too until she was as naked as he was.

Héctor gave a strangled moan as he was given his first glimpse of her, not quite knowing whether to cry, to lose himself completely over his own thighs and make a complete fool of himself or to take her and pin her to the grass before that could happen. But then Imelda smiled, her beautiful, confident smile that had ensnared his heart since they were barely children, and drew him against her. God, she was so _soft._

Neither of them had done this before (though Héctor knew a little from some of the dirtier songs that went down so well with the bar patrons) but it wasn’t so hard to work out, not when every nerve in both of their bodies was screaming out for exactly this.

The gasp Imelda gave as he breached her was more beautiful than any song he could ever hope to write. He held himself completely still for a long moment, frightened he’d hurt her, frightened by the reality of what they were doing made sharply clear, suddenly feeling as delicate and empty as a hollow glass sculpture of a man. But then Imelda wrapped her legs around him, heels pressing into his lower back in silent permission and he slid the rest of the way into her and that was that. Things suddenly felt right and beautiful again.

Imelda gazed up into the flame red sky as Héctor began to move in her, her fingers holding the back of his head, gripping his silken hair like it was her lifeline. Soon the sky broke up and blurred and melted into running watercolours as tears of ecstasy built in her eyes, breaking free at the same moment as the soft, high pitched gasps did, every time his hips met her’s.

Héctor’s fingers gripped the grass as his hips picked up their pace, “Dios mio…oh, Imelda…”

Imelda was beyond the reach of words as she twisted underneath him, having to grip his shoulders, only able to gasp and moan. There weren’t words to describe how she felt in his embrace.

It ended far too soon for either of them, though the moment they both shuddered and let go, in perfect time with each other, was so sweet that they cursed the fact that they hadn’t given into their desire sooner. And although it was over, there were still Imelda’s fingers carding through Héctor’s hair, there were still his lips pressing exhausted, shaky kisses against her collarbone, there were still their hot, ragged breath mingling together in the evening air that had suddenly turned into full, grey night while they were both preoccupied.

“I love you, Imelda,” Héctor was the first to speak, he’d never been comfortable with quiet, “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Imelda giggled softly, kissing his cheeks, pulling him up so she could hug him tighter, the two of them lying tangled on the grassy bank, “I love you too, Héctor. So, so very much.”

He smiled against her, treasuring her words. He wouldn’t be returning to the plaza that night, he knew, despite all of Ernesto’s insisting that this was their big break, this performance would be the one that sealed their futures.

Héctor couldn’t care less. Ernesto could have that if he wanted, it was all his.

But he’d found his own future down by the riverbank and it was better than he ever could have imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Theres more Coco fic and fic for other fandoms on my Tumblr, @my-dearesteliza so come check it out if you like this!


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